yay!!! i finally have time to myself, to immerse myself in literature and tv, and to go through the stack of books that has been waiting so patiently for me. so i'm starting with mr jack kerouac, a beatnik who was always high. i always thought he was fluffy, a pretty boy known more for being the face of the beats than for the way his pen moved and his ink flowed. going through the four essays that preceded the novel (i have the prettiest copy of the book!), i realised kerouac's definitely more substantial than i give him credit for. i'm really enjoying the first few pages and i think the original published form of On the Road was bastardised by the publishers who over-censored the text and punctuated it unnecessarily. kerouac has proven, through his posthumous essayists, he made careful attention to the form his novel took. perhaps some of the metaphors were read, not written, i haven't read enough to decide. i'm definitely glad i gave good ol' jack a chance.
p/s, english was his second language (he was french-canadian). i am ashamed at the ease with which he connects words, and the fluidity of his novel. i could most definitely learn from him.
